It scares me to speak my mind
It might sound self-absorbed
I don't say half of what I think
I wonder what I'm thinkin' for

I'm smelling dead flowers
Listening to the walls again
I'm drinking from a leaky faucet
And writing with this dried up pen
Wish I still had my imaginary friend

And who needs to listen, well
What do I have to sell
Everyone's just waitin' for their own turn
Kind of like show and tell

I'm smelling dead flowers
Listening to the walls again
I'm drinking from a leaky faucet
And writing with this dried up pen
Wish I still had my imaginary friend

Someone to listen
Someone to laugh
Someone to cry at the right times

I'm smelling dead flowers
Listening to the walls again
I'm drinking from a leaky faucet
And writing with this dried up pen
Wish I still had my imaginary friend

I'm smelling dead flowers
Listening to the walls again
I'm drinking from a leaky faucet
And writing with this dried up pen
Wish I still had my imaginary friend

And I would call him up
But I don't remember his name...